A Reason to Be
by Kiseki-no-neko
Summary: “I’m here now,” he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there before.” And he wasn’t just speaking about when she had her nightmare. -Oneshot- -Incest- -Ryan/Dana-


A Reason to Be

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Disclaimer: HAH

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By: Bunny-chan

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Author's Notes

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Okay, so, you guys probably think I'm asking myself two very important questions right now. "Why the hell am I writing this?" and "Don't I care people might find this a little…weird?" HAH! WRONG QUESTIONS! The better questions are, "Why the hell didn't I write this sooner?" and "Do I ever care what people think?" The answers would be, "I dunno!" and "Not really!" -clears throat- No, seriously, I do care what y'all think, as long as it's something NOT dumb! Asking me why I wrote this would be one of those dumb things that I ignore, and we wouldn't want that, would we? For all those that ask sensible questions, I thank you for not being a dumb-butt.

To all those that actually _like _this (All three of you), help me think of a name for this couple that will stick and piss people off! Oh, and if the ending seems rushed…too bad, I got tired of this damn thing, I just wanted to end it!

--

He had hated her. It was as simple as that. He had grown up being told nothing but lies. Lies about how his father had saved her, and not him, how she was the special one, the important one, the loved one, and he was absolutely nothing, and he had believed every single word. He had always thought the life he had lived had been normal, for it was the only life he knew. He didn't have anything else to compare to, living in a cave for fifteen years, learning to fend for himself, nothing but rats, spiders, and occasionally Diabolico's spirit to keep him company. He had taught himself everything he had figured he needed to know, basic math, cooking, cleaning, writing, reading, fighting, he wasn't great at everything, not even good, but it got him through. He was nothing if not a quick learner.

So it had been ridiculously easy to sneak into the Aquabase and steal the Titanium morpher, and more importantly, a picture of his father with a younger version of himself, and…_her_. If you asked him, he would never be able to tell you just exactly who he hated more. His father for never loving him, and allowing him to die, or his sister, for never thinking of him and living the life he deserved just as much as she did. But still. He had been given the chance to kill her. Time and again, and he had never been able to take it. For whatever reason, he just didn't know. Just like he didn't know why he hadn't been able to kill his father, or why he had turned his back on Diabolico, the only person, or demon, as the case may be, he had known for most of his life, or why he had returned to the Aquabase to say goodbye.

His father had said there was good in him, an ocean of goodness to be exact. He had handed him a silver box, told him to open it when he realized he was truly good. He wasn't holding his breath on that ever happening.

--

He had finally realized that his father had been right all along. There was good inside of him, maybe not the ocean of goodness the Captain believed there was, but maybe he wasn't entirely soulless after all. It was strange staying at the Aquabase, having an actual "home" when it wasn't really home yet. He had paced his room for hours, memorizing every little detail before finally climbing into his bed, but sleep had eluded him, which was highly irritating, because the bed was the most comfortable thing he had slept on in years. Just when he had been on the edge of sleep, he had heard the hiss of his door opening, and his eyes were opening, as he shot up in his bed, the light turning on to reveal the petite figure of his sister standing in the doorway.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, silver blue meeting sky blue. She finally blinked, breaking the spell, as he exhaled slowly, "Dana, what are you doing up?"

She shook her head, "I couldn't sleep."

He smiled lightly, "Me neither."

She shifted from foot to foot, leaning against the wall, and he couldn't help but think she looked absolutely adorable in her pink pajamas. She lowered her head, strands of pale blonde hair falling into her eyes, but she made no move to brush them away, "You know…I'm really glad you're home."

He kept silent, because he honestly couldn't call it home, not yet, he remembered that old woman's words about following his heart, and how it would lead him to where he was supposed to go. She had been right. His heart had led him to Dana. Wherever she was, that was where he belonged, it was just that simple. She sighed, biting her lip, "Sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you…you've probably had a long day, try and get some sleep."

She turned to leave, and he spoke up, voice low, "Why can't you sleep?"

She shrugged her shoulders lightly, "I had a nightmare."

He understood all about those, "Wanna talk about it?"

"I'd rather sleep."

He closed his eyes, and a memory flashed behind his eyelids. A younger version of himself in his bed, sleeping soundlessly, only woken when a small body was worming its way into his bed. He was surprised he had remembered something like that, something from his childhood, he had thought all of his memories of her had been repressed, the few images of the small blonde had been pushed back into the deepest parts of his mind, but now that one thing had returned. When he opened his eyes, she was still there, still staring at him. Before he could really think about it, he was scooting over to make room for her, his back hitting the wall. Really though, he could've just let her have the other bed, but something told him she needed the comfort and warmth of another body, not an empty bed.

She gave him a tiny smile, moving closer to him, a little hesitant, like she was afraid of him, and that made his heart constrict painfully. Not that he didn't deserve it, because he did, he _had _tried to kill her, after all, there would've been something wrong with her if she _hadn't _been afraid, "It's alright, Dana." He spoke gently, as if one wrong word would scare her off like a startled fawn.

She carefully crawled into bed with him, keeping her distance, so much so that she was on the edge of the bed, and Ryan fought off a smirk, "I'm not going to bite, short-stuff, you can move closer."

She edged close enough to him to hit him in the arm, a frown on her face, "You're not _that _much taller than me, you know!" Her frown was quickly replaced with a smile when she realized what he had called her, "You remembered."

Short-stuff had been the nickname he had called her when they were little, and it tasted strange on his tongue, but he couldn't help but call her it anyway, "Yeah, I remember."

Her smile grew, and she (_finally_) moved closer to him, hands curling into his pajama top, and he slid his arms around her waist. It was weird, being close to another human being like this. He was used to being alone, the last time somebody had been in his bed (the last time he had a bed) was when he was five. Amusingly enough, that person had been Dana, it was fitting that she was the first person to be in this bed with him now, "Think you can try and sleep now?" His voice was soft, breath ghosting over her hair.

"Yes, I think I can now." Her own voice was whisper-soft, and it somehow managed to bring comfort to him.

As her breathing evened out, he knew she was asleep, her face tucked into the crook of his neck, and her upper body resting on his arm. He knew then that it was right, being with her, close to her, it was right. It didn't matter that they had grown up without each other, it didn't matter that he had been raised to hate her, none of that mattered, not now, not when she was finally sleeping soundly, not when he finally had her with him again. And it was that thought that lulled him into precious sleep.

--

Ryan hadn't been sleeping long when he had woken from his nightmare, panting and covered with sweat. His arm was numb from where Dana had used it as a pillow, and he looked down at her, smiling warmly, but a sharp wince of pain replaced it when his left shoulder burned. He carefully extracted his arm from underneath his sister, making sure not to wake her as he stood up and made his way to his closet. He pulled open the closet door, turning around, and pulling up his pajama top. Even in the dim lighting it was easy to see the cobra that marred his shoulder, and he closed his eyes, "_Fuck_…" Even now, he couldn't escape Diabolico's grasp, no matter how hard he tried, the bastard just wouldn't let him go.

He opened his eyes, continuing to stare at the tattoo. If his nightmare was correct, and there was no reason it wouldn't be, then every time he morphed, the cobra would grow until it reached his neck, where it would kill him. And that meant one of two things. Either he could keep morphing and help everyone out, but die, or he could just sit back, and keep living, but be completely helpless. He didn't particularly care for either option, but he really couldn't deal with the latter. Now that he was on the side of good, he couldn't just sit back and let those bastards hurt the people he cared for, not if he could do something about it. He'd just have to be careful and pick his battles wisely, limit his number of morphs if possible. Any way he looked at it, he was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't, but if he had to go out, he'd rather go out swinging. He was startled out of his thoughts by Dana's small cry of his name. He hurriedly let his shirt drop, smoothing it over to make sure it covered the tattoo, "Ryan?" Her voice increased an octave when he didn't answer.

He slammed the closet door closed, and made his way back to the bed, kneeling at her side, grasping her hand when she reached out for him blindly, "I'm right here, Dana, it's okay."

"You weren't there when I reached for you," she wiped her tears away with her free hand, "you weren't there, and I was scared."

"I'm here now," he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, "I'm sorry I wasn't there before." And he wasn't just speaking about when she had her nightmare.

She sat up, curling her arm around his neck in a hug, "Don't leave me again."

"I won't, I'm here to stay." He whispered into her hair.

He crawled into bed with her, nudging her over, as she kept her arm wrapped around him, blue eyes focusing on him, on his expression, as he fought to keep his face neutral as his shoulder continued to burn, "What happened?" She questioned softly.

He resolutely decided to play the fool, "What are you talking about?"

She squinted her eyes in the dim lighting, "You weren't in bed when I woke up, and you look like shit."

He couldn't stop his bark of laughter, most definitely not used to hearing such crude language coming out of her mouth, "Somebody needs her mouth washed out with soap."

"I'm eighteen, not eight, and don't change the subject,"

His smile faded as he sighed through his teeth. He had forgotten that when she had her mind set on something, there was just no deterring her, though he was remembering quick enough, "Nightmare."

"What was it about?"

"What was yours about?" He challenged.

"Which one?" She retorted.

"Both."

"No way, one or the other."

"The one you just had then."

She wrinkled her nose in agitation, she had kind of been hoping he'd just drop it all together, neither of the nightmares were exactly things she was willing to talk about, but if he was willing to talk about what had happened to him, then so was she, "Fine, but you have to promise you'll tell me what happened to you."

"Deal."

She focused her gaze on some random spot of his shirt instead of his eyes, "…you died…"

Out of all the things he expected her to tell him, that wasn't it. He kept silent, allowing her to continue, afraid if he spoke up, she'd lose her nerve, "You were protecting me from one of Diabolico's monsters…he kept calling you a traitor, said he was going to take everything you loved away from you, he had already killed father, and was going to kill me, right in front of your eyes…"

Ryan tightened his hold on her at those words, clenching his teeth together, nobody was taking Dana away from him, not Diabolico, not Vypra, not _anyone_, "I was so weak, I couldn't stay morphed any longer, I could barely even move, his monster was going to stab me, but then you jumped in front of me, took the blow for me, demorphed and fell to the ground, and there was blood everywhere…so much blood…" Tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, "I couldn't stop it, no matter how much pressure I applied, it never stopped, you bled out in my arms, but you said you were glad you died that way, that there was no better death for you, protecting me, it was your job, but I…" She couldn't keep going as sobs wracked her body, and she buried her face in his neck again.

He cradled her head gently, short strands of silky hair wrapping themselves around his fingers, "It's alright, Dana, I'm here, I'm right here." He whispered into her ear.

"I don't want anything to happen to you because of me." She spoke between sobs.

He chuckled lightly, "I'd do anything for you, you know." And it was true, in such a short amount of time, his instincts had quickly taken over, telling him that his one and only job was not to protect Mariner Bay, but to protect her, and that's what he'd do, no matter the consequences to himself or anyone else.

"Not die for me." She insisted.

"I would. Easily, I wouldn't even have to think about it."

Her mouth turned down at the corners, he spoke it as if it was so easy, like he really meant it, and maybe he did, "Ryan…"

He shook his head, "Don't think about it anymore."

"But…"

He brushed his lips against her forehead, "Just stop."

She pouted, "Fine."

He smoothed her hair out of her face, "Well, you told me yours, so I guess I should return the favor."

She looked up into his eyes, so much lighter than her own, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

He gave a sardonic smile, "Fair's fair, though it's probably better to show you." He wriggled out of her grasp, and she just barely fought back a whimper, as she cursed herself inwardly, like she had stated earlier, she was eighteen, not eight, she shouldn't be acting like a scared little girl.

He moved a little ways from her, just enough to inch up his shirt, revealing his not-kept-long-secret, "Ryan…what is this?"

"A going-away present from dear Diabolico." She could hear the scorn in his voice, and shook her head in confusion, though he couldn't see it, he seemed to know she was doing it regardless, "To make a long story short, if I morph, I'll die."

"W-what?"

"The tattoo. It's a curse. Every time I morph, it'll grow, move closer to my neck, until it finally kills me, I don't know the limit of morphs I have, probably no more than three or four, and even that's risking it, but it burns, constantly, doesn't stop." There were tears in her eyes again before she could even think of stopping them, tracing the pattern of the tattoo with her gaze. She pressed her hand against it, and he shivered at her cool fingers meeting his heated flesh, "We'll fix it, Ryan, I swear we will." He could hear the determination in her voice, and laughed hollowly, "Don't think this is something you can fix, short-stuff, Diabolico's a vicious bastard, and when he wants revenge, he'll get it."

"Don't say that! You'll see, Miss Fairweather, and I, and everybody else, we'll figure something out, we _will_, and you'll be fine, you won't…you won't…because you said…you said you'd never leave again!" He would've turned to face her, but he didn't want to see her crying, just hearing it was bad enough, and besides, her fingers really _did_ feel good on his back.

She swiped her tears away, telling herself that would be the end of her crying, as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to a spot above the damning mark, lips warm against a random freckle, "I won't lose you again." She swore.

He finally turned back around, shirt falling down into place as his arms resumed their place around her waist, "No, you won't."

--

The first time he crossed the line hadn't been intentional, not at all, he just wanted her to be _quiet_, just for a minute. He had morphed for the first time after gaining the cobra tattoo, got found out by Carter, forbidden to morph again by his dad, and now he was being chewed out by Dana, something that was entirely as unpleasant as he imagined it would be. "What were you _thinking_?" Dana paced in front of him, as he laid on his bed, flopped out on his stomach.

"I was _thinking_ that I needed to save you guys." He replied, head still even as his eyes continued to follow her.

"Not at the cost of your life!" She grumbled.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"This time, but what about next time?"

"Well, if dad has his way, there won't _be_ a next time."

"I agree with him."

"You would," He muttered under his breath, before sighing through his teeth, reaching up to grasp her delicate wrist, "Stop pacing, would you? It makes me nervous."

She huffed in annoyance, tugging her wrist out of his grasp, before settling down on the floor, her back against his bed, "Father's right though, you shouldn't morph again, that one time was dangerous enough."

"Dana, you can't just expect me to sit on the sidelines and let my teammates be in danger when I can _help_."

"You can't help if you're in pain every time you morph though, it's not worth it, we're not worth throwing your life away for."

"You're right, the team isn't worth throwing my life away for." He could hear the sharp intake of her breath, the hurt emanating from her lips without speaking a word, and he leaned over, arm dangling enough over the bed so he could slip it around her shoulders, "They might not be, but you are." He whispered in her ear.

She titled her head up, sky blue meeting silver blue, "Ryan…"

"I told you before, it'd be easy to die for you."

"I'd never forgive you if you died because of me."

"Well, at least you'd still be alive, so it wouldn't matter to me one way or the other."

She shook her head, "I don't understand you."

"What's not to understand?"

"What makes my life so much more important than yours?"

He gave a one-shoulder shrug, "It's my job." He stated just like before.

"But Ryan, don't you get it? I need you to be safe, and well, and _alive_, and if you keep morphing…"

She kept talking but he tuned it out, he got it just perfectly, but _she_ didn't, and she needed to, because she couldn't keep worrying about him, but he knew there was just no changing her mind, she would keep believing that his place was to stay behind and watch the fights from the safety of the Aquabase, and he just really, really, _really_ needed her to be quiet, because her words were just making his shoulder burn that much more. So he did the first thing he thought of. And it wasn't exactly smart, and it definitely wasn't right, but then again, he never did have the best moral compass in the world. When his lips pressed to hers, her word flow instantly came to a halt, dark pink lips warm under his, and her hands instantly came to frame his face, instinct fueling her motions.

It was only a minute, maybe even just half of that, and he barely had time to memorize the way she tasted before she was pulling away, eyes wide, and hands trembling, as she quickly stood up, "I-I need to go, you need to rest." And she was out of his room just like that, the hiss of his door closing filling his ears.

It took a few minutes for him to realize just exactly what he had done, and a bark of hysterical laughter bubbled up out of his throat, "Shit, shit, _shit_." He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders continued to shake, from laughter or tears or both, he couldn't tell. The only thing he knew was that he was well and truly fucked.

--

The second time he crossed the line was intentional, it was the first time he had the intention of kissing her from the get-go. He needed to know what these feelings meant, he needed to figure out the exact extinct of how fucked up he was, although using Dana for it wasn't exactly part of the plan, he didn't want to pull her into his sick, twisted black hole of destruction…however angst-y that sounded, it was still true. It was the morning after (and didn't that sound ten kinds of wrong?) the kiss, and he knew he was close to finding her, he could feel an energy thrumming beneath his skin, a feeling he was starting to become familiar with whenever he was close to her. It was still late enough that not everyone was awake yet, but early enough that he knew the sun was up above the surface.

He easily dodged the few scientists and other staff trolling the halls, ignoring their slightly cautious glances as he had quickly learned to do, and he finally found her with a laundry basket in her hands, filled to the brim with pink and yellow and denim. She froze in front of him, nearly dropping the dirty laundry, before forcing herself to regain her composure, "Good morning, Ryan." Her greeting was curt and cool, and it pierced into his heart like a rusty dagger.

"Mornin', Dana." He stepped to the side, allowing her to keep going on her original path, and he fell into step beside her.

The silence felt like it was choking him, and he spoke up to alleviate it, "So, laundry day?" Okay, stupid question, but it was a start.

"Yes." Ouch, one word answers was never a good thing. So the only thing to do about that was to keep the questions coming.

"How are you?"

She gave him a sidelong glance, eyes like chipped ice, "Fine."

"That's…good to know." Just give it up, Ryan, she's pissed at you, and rightfully so, you _kissed_ her for God's sake, your own _sister_! What'd you expect her to do? Brush it off?

They reached the laundry room, and Dana breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the room was empty, she always hated doing her laundry around other people for some reason. Ryan leaned against a dryer as the Pink Ranger started to separate the clothes, he noted the light blush staining her cheeks when she got to bras and underwear, and just barely resisted the urge to laugh. When she was finished putting the clothes into the washing machines, she turned to leave, but he caught her wrist, hauling her into him as she gave a startled yelp, "What are you doing?"

"Apologizing," among other things, "I crossed a line last night, didn't I?"

She knew it was a rhetorical question, and just kept her mouth shut, as she noted just how close she was to him. She could feel every inch of his lean, hard body pressed against her, and she should've moved away, definitely could've tried, sure, he was stronger than her, but she could still try, but something inside of her told her to stay right where she was, "I know I fucked up."

There was something in his eyes that she couldn't identify, something that warmed her insides when it really shouldn't have, "I'm sorry." He murmured softly.

"For?" She just wanted to hear him say it.

"For last night, and for this."

"Th-" She was cut off, once again, by his kiss. Her eyes widened, and she didn't know what to do. She knew what she _should_ do, but her body wasn't following her brain's instructions, all it knew was this…pleasure, this heat, this feeling of right that was so wrong.

Ryan didn't know whether to cry or laugh when she kissed him back, fingers curling into the sandy brown hair at the nape of his neck. Did that make her just as fucked as he was? No, no, she was Dana, sweet, innocent, smart Dana, everything he wasn't, everything he wanted, nothing he could hope to be, he could never taint her, no matter how hard he tried, but that didn't mean he _had_ to keep trying. He pulled back from the kiss, and her eyes opened, darker than he had ever seen them before, and when he tried to let her go, she just curled closer to him, "Dana…"

"I don't know what this is, Ryan, I don't know what these feelings mean, and it scares the _hell_ out of me," he placed a hand to her cheek and she leaned into the touch, "I know it's wrong, I _know_ that, but…"

"It doesn't feel that way." She lowered her eyes at his statement, nodding.

She honestly didn't know what to do. These feelings…they were absolutely nothing like what she had felt (still felt maybe) for Carter. If she was away from Ryan for even an hour, she would feel completely antsy, but she had contributed that to finally having him back again. She wanted to find the deepest, hidden part of him and burrow inside of him, and hide away from the world. She wanted to help him, she wanted to…she didn't know what she wanted to do, she just knew she couldn't be apart from him ever again, it just wasn't an option. She was used to solving things with her intelligence, picking things apart piece by piece, analyzing them backwards and forwards until everything made sense. But this? No matter how she looked at it, it didn't make any kind of sense at all, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she kind of didn't want it to.

"I'm sorry…" She dipped her head to let it rest on his shoulder.

He chuckled, "Don't apologize, Dana, I'm as clueless as you are," he tightened his hold on her, "I might ruin you, short-stuff, completely fuck you over."

Everything inside of her that was sensible and logical told her to back off now, while the offer was still on the table, they could end it before it started, figure out what the feelings were, and piece them into something they were supposed to be instead of something twisted, but she _needed_ him, needed him like the air she breathed, like the water she drank, needed him like the blood (hers, his, theirs) that flowed through her veins, "You're too good for that," she brushed her lips against his neck, feeling the shiver that ran down his spine as sure as if it was her own, "you could never ruin me."

"If I was so good, this wouldn't be happening right now," he couldn't even force himself to let her go to emphasize his point, "this never would've happened, I never would've-"

"Stop, Ryan, just stop, what's the point of dwelling on it? We'll figure it out, you'll see."

And she was comforting him again, and part of him couldn't stand it, but another part relished it in, that somebody cared about him so much, with all of her heart and soul, and he just pulled her closer, everything would work out in the end, it just had to.

--

The third time he crossed the line started in the infirmary, and it was the first time she cried out his name in something other than pain or sorrow. "You're an idiot." Dana stated as she watched Miss Fairweather leave.

"So I've been told." He muttered dryly.

"You could've gotten yourself killed, you weren't just fighting one monster, you were fighting _two_, in a new zord, and now the cobra…"

"Isn't going to kill me, I'll be fine."

"If you don't morph again."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I'll do whatever I have to do to protect you, I haven't been able to protect you for fifteen fucking years, I have to make up for lost time, it's not your job to protect me, it's my job to protect _you_, that's just how it works."

She was about this close to stomping her foot in frustration, "God, Ryan, you are so…so…" she was at a loss at what to call him.

He gave her a lazy grin, "Good-looking? Amazing? Superbly awesome?"

"Audacious." She shot back.

He frowned, obviously trying to figure out what she had just said, damn smarty-pants Dana, "Wait, I am _not_ reckless!"

"Did you think before you morphed?"

"Of course I thought! I thought you needed saving, and I was right."

"Not-"

"Don't start with the whole "Not at the cause of your own life!" shit again, alright?" he rolled his eyes, grasping her wrist and tugging her onto the bed, "I know you want me to stay safe, so it should be easy for you to understand why I want to keep _you_ safe, and if I have to die to do it, then so be it."

Frustration filled her veins, how many times would they have to have this conversation before he realized that she just wanted him safe and sound? That she never wanted him out of her sight, because she was afraid anything or anybody could take him from her again, and honestly what would she do with herself if that happened again? She didn't even want to entertain that thought. He curled an arm around her waist, pulling her down to lay beside him, and she tucked herself neatly against him. Her hair was brushed off of her neck, and kisses were placed against her skin, and she sighed in pleasure, lacing her fingers together with his.

"Dana…" There was a question in his voice, whispered into her skin.

She tilted her head up, catching his troubled gaze, "What is it?"

"Do you think dad will be…mad?"

She didn't ask him to elaborate about what he meant (the tattoo, the morphing, this, _us_), "I don't know," she answered honestly, because she couldn't lie to him (though that was a lie in of itself, because she could lie, sugarcoat it 'till it made him gag, but she wouldn't), "dad can be pretty strict about things."

Well, that was answer enough, no way would he take this (any of it) laying down, "Oh…"

"But don't worry about it," she kissed his jaw line, "dad just worries about us, you especially, I know he told you that he doesn't want to lose you again, he really does mean it."

"I know, it's just…" he exhaled slowly, "I hate when you two worry about me, it's not right."

"Maybe not to you, but it's only natural, we care about you."

She said it so easily, as simple as breathing, like they hadn't really known each other for less than a week (not even a week, and he was already screwing her up), like he wasn't dying, like they were normal, when they were the furthest thing from it. He started to speak again when they heard footsteps, and she carefully extracted herself from his embrace, leaving him empty and cold, "I have to go." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

The words of _stay don't leave me not now_ stick to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter, and he can't get them out, and when their dad comes into the room, exchanging a glance with her, he feels the bitter taste of shame coating his tongue, and averts his eyes. She leaves, and dad stays, and he's scared. Damn, what the hell is he supposed to do now?

--

It all came to a head when he stopped her in the hallway after the fight with Troika. She tells him not to worry about her, to get some rest, smiling the whole time, face smudged with dirt, and she goes to join the rest of the group, but he hauls her into an empty storage room and kisses her. For her part, she doesn't try to pull away, merely melts into it, the kiss full of frustration, and anger, and fire. He didn't need any goddamn rest, he wasn't some terminal cancer patient, and he wasn't an invalid, the sooner she realized that, the better. When he pulled away, his gaze swept over her, noting her dirt-caked face and hair, the barely-there rips in her shirt, but oh-so-noticeable to him, "Are you okay?" He repeats his earlier question.

"I told you, I'm fine, stop worrying." But that's akin to telling him to stop _breathing_, it's impossible, it would kill him.

He gave her a look that stated, for all her bravado, he just didn't believe her, "Right, fine, I'm sure."

"Ryan, honestly, I'm-" The rest of her words were cut off by her Lightspeed jacket hitting the floor, she looked up at him with wide eyes, as a frown marred his features when he caught sight of drying blood along the rips of her shirt.

Pink fabric was quick to follow, and a gasp escaped her throat, goose bumps blooming over her skin at the rush of air against her bare skin. She was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn't really tell because his hands were on her abdomen, and steadily moving upwards, cataloguing each cut and bruise. She felt exposed but not uncomfortable, as his gaze was purely clinical at the moment, he didn't see the smooth, light skin, just the injuries, and she was a little grateful for that. "I thought you said you were fine." His voice was tinged with anger that made her wince.

"I _am_ fine."

"This doesn't look like fine." He indicated a bruise right below her collarbone, an angry dark red, and she sighed, "Well, I _will_ be fine."

Suddenly, it was as if all the anger had drained out of him, leaving him inexplicably exhausted, his body slumping against her own. She easily took on his weight, leaning against the wall, the metal cool against her back as she smoothed a hand through his hair, "I'm supposed to protect you…" He whispered against the sharp plane of her collarbone.

"Ryan…"

"I've been gone for so long, fifteen years, over a decade, I missed out on so much, _you_ missed out on so much," she could feel the wetness spattering on her skin, "God, Dana, I'm so sorry."

Her own throat was clogged with emotion as his body shook against hers. She couldn't remember ever seeing him cry, not even when they were little, and it felt a little like dying inside. It wasn't right, he was supposed to be strong, she wasn't used to this, she didn't know what to do, a feeling she was starting to associate with Ryan more and more. "Oh, Ryan, it's okay…"

"S'not… you're hurt, you're not supposed to be hurt…" He sounded like a little boy, all of five years old again, and it tore at her heart.

"I'm not hurt, I'll be okay, they're all shallow cuts, and light bruises, they'll heal within a couple of days." That was always the nice thing about being a Ranger, accelerated healing, wounds usually healed within a couple of days, serious injuries, like broken bones, generally took a week to heal.

"You shouldn't be hurt at all." He murmured.

She gave a laugh, pressing a kiss to his temple, "It comes with the job, sweetie, you're starting to see that."

He looked up at the pet-name, tears still clinging stubbornly to his eyelashes, and she brushed them away, as he sighed lightly, before kissing her chastely, "Thank you."

"For what?"

He shrugged lightly, "This."

She didn't have to ask what _this_ was, because it was obvious, and she gave a smile that could rival the sun, and he couldn't help but kiss her again. Her mouth was warm and her taste was intoxicating, and he couldn't get enough as he pulled her closer. When his fingers came into contact with her bare back, it was like electricity surging through his veins, and he pulled back, finally noting that, oh yeah, she didn't have a shirt on. She blushed under his appreciative gaze, drinking up the sight of her as she just barely resisted the urge to raise her arms over herself, or reach down to grab her shirt. He gave her a teasingly leering grin that made her scowl lightly, despite her blush, and his grin merely widened at her scowl, "Aw, Dana, you're so cute when you're angry."

"Shut up." She grumbled, sticking out her tongue.

She really should have expected him to swoop down to capture her lips with his, sleek tongue against her own, he was just _that_ sneaky that she never saw it coming. And she most _definitely_ didn't expect long fingers snaking up the soft skin of her thigh, she pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide, and he caught her startled gaze, "I won't do anything you don't want me to do, short-stuff."

It was probably the nickname that did it, and her eyes softened, as she laid her hand on top of his, carefully dragging their joined hands upwards, "I'm going to be late for the meeting…" She murmured.

He gave her a lopsided grin, "Aren't you already? Don't worry, I'll be quick about it."

That was something most women didn't want to hear, but hey, she _was_ late enough as is, and she didn't want to be any later. He kept his gaze locked onto her the entire time, looking for any hint that she wanted him to stop, he still didn't get any hint of the sort when his fingers grazed her silk panties, and he didn't have to look to know they were pink like her bra. He swallowed up her moan, making sure to keep her quiet, it definitely wouldn't do to get caught now, there'd be no explaining this away. It was easy to push her panties to the side, sliding his fingers inside of her, and she made a light keening noise, arching upwards. He kept watching her, delighting in the look on her face, and the noises she made. She was pretty quiet, only occasionally making the lightest of whimpers, moans, and whispers of his name. He thought maybe he was doing something wrong, but if he was, she could easily make him stop.

She curled her hands into his shoulders, short nails biting into his skin, as he peppered her bare skin with kisses, extra-extra careful to avoid any cuts and bruises, he didn't want to hurt her, not ever. He had always been a quick learner, a natural at adapting, and he could tell what pleased her the most by gauging her reactions, and he knew she was close by the way she squeezed her eyes shut tight, slick warm muscles clenching around his fingers, and a twist of his wrist, and a brush of his thumb had her bursting apart at the seams, his name on her lips, and he covered his mouth with hers to keep the noises on the inside. It took her awhile to come down from her high, her eyes slowly opening half-way when she felt her panties being fixed, and she glanced up in time to catch Ryan licking his fingers clean, looking very much the poster child for a kid enjoying the full-run of a candy store. Her breath catches at the sight, and he looks at her, a question in his eyes, one of slight insecurity and nervousness, and she leaned forward and kissed it all away, tasting herself on his tongue, mixed with his own unique taste, and it sent shivers down her spine.

"So, I take it that wasn't incredibly horrible?" He gave her a grin that was a little tense around the edges.

She shook her head frantically, "No! Definitely not terrible, the opposite of it, in fact." She wondered how he learned it, when and with whom, but she doesn't dare to ask, "It's nothing like when I do it myself."

He raised an eyebrow in intrigue, and she seemed to realize exactly what she just said, as pink flooded her cheeks, "N-not that I do it often! I-it's just sometimes I need a release, but um…you definitely don't need to know that."

He laughed, long and light, and he kissed her, pulling away to pick up her jacket and shirt, handing them to her, "You should probably get going."

She wilted a little, but slid on the items of clothing with obligating reluctance, "Thank you." She murmured, darting forward lightning quick to give him another kiss, one he easily returned.

"Alright, on your way, I'll catch you later." She gave him a grin, and left the room, leaving him alone, before he counted to five in his head, and left too.

He reached behind him, touching his mid-back where the tattoo lay in wait. He needed to find some way to get rid of the fucking thing, he was absolutely _useless_ to everybody like this. So it came as a great relief when he heard two techs pass by, talking about the desert. He closed his eyes in frustration as he remembered, he was a goddamn idiot, he could've been rid of the curse a long time ago. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he hurried up the ladder, at least now he finally had a plan.

--

To Ryan, it was starting to feel like it was one damn thing after another. They couldn't even celebrate the destruction of Diabolico in peace without an alarm going off. One minute, there was laughter and cheers, and food and drinks being passed around in the galley, and the next minute, they were rushing to grab their Lightspeed jackets, jumping into the Rover to hurry downtown. Before they even made it there, he knew something terrible was going on, he could feel it to the bone. And when he saw the dark purple energy in the sky, his heart dropped to his stomach. He made his way to the others, coming to stop beside Dana, staring up in disbelief, "I thought she was destroyed…" He muttered to himself, but still loud enough for the others to hear, as Kelsey questioned him.

"Queen Bansheera. She's worse than _ten_ Diabolicos." He informed them without looking away from the demon Queen.

She went on to say how Diabolico had proved himself unworthy, but her son would not, and Carter was confused, "Her son?"

"Impus." He stated gravely.

"Behold my heir, and _your_ destructor." She vanished, the cloud turning orange, as the red cocoon descended from the cloud.

A shudder shook his body, and a hand curled into his, and he squeezed it gently, knowing who it was by the feeling he got. The cocoon holding Impus flew off, and Carter growled out, "Let's go, guys." And so they were off again, ready to fight when they hadn't even had a chance to rest. But that was the story of their lives, apparently. He could deal with it though, as long as she was by his side.

--

The fourth time wasn't crossing a line so much as accepting the truth. Impus (now Olympius) was still around, but incredibly weakened, they still had a job to do, people to save, and a city to protect, but at least they had gotten a day off, and that was something. The sun was setting, people were still around, but not many, and he was laying on the sand, staring up at the sky. The others were close by, but not close enough that he could really hear their conversation, though he could tell from the exuberant voice that Kelsey was telling another one of her adventurous tales. He picked up a whiff of her scent, mixed with the sea breeze, and he pushed himself up onto his shoulders to glance at her, suddenly in front of him, walking the shoreline. He wondered why she was with him, instead of with the others, when he saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards just seconds later, and she all but skipped over towards him, her hands covering something.

"Whatcha got there?" He questioned, clearly intrigued.

She opened his hand, and slid something into his hand, closing it over the object before he could get a look at it. Whatever the thing was pricked his fingers, was wet from water from the sea and smooth. He raised his hand up, opening his palm to stare at the treasure she had given him, "A seashell?"

"Not just any seashell," she informed him, rather proudly, "found that one especially for you."

The shell glimmered in the dimming sunlight, pale gray-ish white, almost silver, and he gave her a smile, "What's it called?"

"Commonly, a jingle shell, scientifically, anomia simplex." She stated easily, as if she had a textbook right in front of her.

"And here I thought you were studying to become a pediatrician, not a seashell analogist." He pondered briefly if there was such a thing, then mentally shrugged his shoulders.

"Is that your way of saying you don't like it?" She pouted at him, and he panicked.

"Don't be silly, Dana! I love it, it's an amazing seashell," he held it up, waving it frantically, glinting silver in the orange light, "great color and-"

She couldn't hold the façade any longer, and she burst into a fit of giggles. He halted his words, eyebrows raised, before he huffed in annoyance, a good-natured grin crossing his features, "Goddamn brat."

She grinned in return, still giggling, "You know you love me."

And it wasn't like a huge realization, it wasn't like a bolt of lightning, or like a truck had hit him, it was just simply…there, "Yeah, yeah, I do."

Her giggling stopped as quick as it had started, and her eyes grew wide, "What?"

"You're right," he lay back into the sand, eyes closing, "I _do_ love you."

She exhaled softly, before her lips curled into a goofy grin that he, thankfully, didn't see. Hearing those words made her feel like her heart would flutter right out of her chest, she felt lighter than air, warm and safe, and she decided she very much liked the feelings those words induced, "Say it again." It came out as half demanding, and half pleading.

He smirked, "I love you."

She lay next to him, sand sticking to her back, "Good, because I love you too."

He sighed lightly, just as warm and safe as she was, and he felt another seashell pressed into his free hand. He examined it like he had the other one, this one was rosy pink, fading in pink colors until it stopped at white, "What's this one?"

"Rose petal tellin, or tellina lineata."

He shook his head, "When do you have time to learn all this stuff?"

She shrugged, "Whenever I get the downtime, I like to learn."

He understood that, there was no such thing as too much knowledge, after all, everything came in handy eventually, "This one for me too?"

"Yep, they're both for you." She turned to face him, eyes bright, as the sun sank down further, the moon growing more luminous by the minute.

He reached over, took a hand in his as he transferred both shells to his other hand, keeping them safe, "Thanks, short-stuff."

And it was just a moment, a simple passage in time that meant more than the world to them, a turning point, something that would keep them warm at night. And it made what he knew he had to do next that much harder, and that much easier.

--

When she crossed the line, she hadn't been aiming to do it, she just couldn't sit there and act like everything was okay, when it very much _wasn't_.

"I'm gonna leave." He stated after explaining about how he knew that the demons could be contained again.

Everyone was, understandably, in a state of shock, "I've gotta find out how to capture them again." He elaborated after a beat.

She could feel the tears building unbidden as Kelsey spoke up, "We'll go with you!"

He shook his head, squeezing her shoulder, "No, Mariner Bay needs you."

Their dad stood up, and so did she, unnoticed by everyone else as she started to back out of the room, "I'm proud of you." The older man stated.

"Be careful." Carter chimed in, always the cautious and protective leader.

Father and son shook hands, and the sister quietly slid out of the room, unable to take anymore. He turned to speak to her, and his heart sank when he noted she was gone. "I'll go talk to her." Kelsey offered, but he shook his head, "No, don't worry about it, I'll go."

It was, after all, his fault she was feeling the way she was, it was only fair he fixed it.

--

He found her in his room, curled up in his bed, sheets over her head, shoulders shaking with angry, hurt sobs. His heart broke a little more at the sight, and he moved over to the bed, "Dana…"

"Get out." She spoke up between sobs.

"'fraid I can't do that, short-stuff, this _is _my room, after all."

She sat up, sheets falling down her body, hair ruffled, and eyes red, "Like it matters. You're leaving anyway, aren't you?"

His eyes softened, all warm and hurt, and he reached out to touch her, but she flinched away, mouth turned down at the corners with anger, "I have to leave, Dana." He murmured gently.

"You don't _have_ to do anything, you just choose to." She retorted, crossing her arms over chest, managing to look incredibly stubborn despite how miserable she felt.

He sat down next to her, and she pierced him with sky blue eyes, wide and liquid, "I have to find out how to seal the demons again, I have to help protect Mariner Bay, and more importantly, I have to protect _you_."

Tears filled her eyes again, and her face scrunched up, "It's not fair. It's not fair. It's _not fair_!"

He wondered briefly if she would start to throw a tantrum, long-lost memories of a three-year-old Dana throwing herself onto the floor, face red and scrunched up as she beat her tiny fists on the ground, and flailed her legs, "I know it's not fair, short-stuff, but I won't be gone forever, I'll come back."

Her tears spilled over as she pouted, "You shouldn't leave at all."

He leaned closer to her, pressing his forehead against hers, breath warm on her lips, "I'll never leave you, even when I'm not here, I'll still be by your side."

"It's not the same." She sighed, closing her eyes.

"I know it's not, but it's something I have to do, you understand that, don't you?" He wiped her tears away.

She sniffled, "Of course, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

He chuckled, "No, you don't have to like it at all, I don't like it much either."

She wanted to ask why he was going if he didn't want to, but she knew why. She knew he still felt like he had so much to make up for, all the years they had missed, the times she had cried out for him and he never showed up, the years he spent hating her, the time she spent feeling like half of her soul was lost, the times he tried to kill them, everything that had happened in the past fifteen years made him feel like he was responsible for it all, when he obviously wasn't. He didn't have to prove anything to anyone, least of all them, but it was clear he didn't see it as such, no matter what anyone tried to tell him otherwise. A pang of guilt hit her suddenly, and she took his hands in hers, "I'm sorry, this has to be hard for you, and here I am, acting like a big brat."

"Well, you were always a big brat, so it's not like that's something new," he teased, and she rolled her eyes, "but really, it's okay, I get it, it hurts."

"That doesn't mean I can pretend like I'm the only who's hurting though." There was a glint in her eyes that he wasn't entirely sure he liked.

And it was proved when she leaned back, releasing his hands to start to unbutton her shirt, "…Dana? What are you doing?" His eyes were wide, transfixed on her.

She raised an eyebrow, shirt unbuttoned all the way, revealing smooth skin as it hung loose around her shoulders, "What does it look like I'm doing?" She pushed the pink fabric the rest of the way off, pooling onto the bed.

He was pretty sure his mouth was watering at this point, "It looks like you're undressing."

She gave a grin, raising up to rest on her knees as she worked on her skirt, "That's exactly what I'm doing."

He blinked once, twice and then three times before speaking, "But…why?"

"Complaining?" She slid the skirt down, wriggling out of it expertly.

He shook his head, unable to speak as his voice had left him and she reached behind her to unclasp her bra, but he lurched forward, chest to chest as he grasped her wrists, "Ryan?"

He shook his head again, swallowing hard, "Dana…you don't have to do this."

She tilted her head up, that same stubborn look in her eyes as before, "I want to."

"Why now?"

She finally turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze as she pursed her lips, "Why not now?"

He tried to catch her gaze, but she kept her head turned stubbornly, and he sighed, "You're scared, aren't you?"

"I'm not scared."

He snorted, "Bullshit. Of course you are, and that's why you want this now instead of later."

She didn't answer, and he continued on, "You think this might be your last chance, that no matter what I say, I'm not coming back, right?"

"It's true, isn't it?" She looked up at him, wriggling against his grasp, but he made no move to let her go, "So what if it is true?"

He sighed, "But it's not true, Dana, I'm coming back."

"You might die." She whispered, as if speaking it too loudly would make it come true.

"Any of us could die at anytime, but at least this way, I'm lessening the chance."

"Not for you." She muttered.

He smiled, leaning down to nuzzle his face into her neck, "Don't worry about me so much, short-stuff."

"You'll be all alone."

"I'm used to it."

She strained against his grip again and he finally released her wrists, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck, "When were you planning on leaving?"

His silence was answer enough, and red-hot anger made her tighten her grip on him, "You were going to leave right after you said bye, weren't you?"

"Well…I was gonna pack a bag, but basically, yeah."

He said it so nonchalantly, so easily that it made her blood boil, "Why?"

"Easier to leave that way."

"But I threw a wrench in that plan, right?" Her voice was tinged with smugness, and he rolled his eyes, "Don't be a brat, I'm _still _leaving."

She huffed in annoyance and then her mouth was on his, warm and demanding. She didn't want to talk any longer, she didn't want reassurance about his return, or how he needed to leave, she just wanted _him_. He pulled her closer, tongue running along her teeth, as his hands rested on her back, long fingers splayed along her skin. She curled around him, fingers burying themselves in his sandy brown hair, she loved him, so much, so much, she loved him, and said as much, murmuring the words against his lips, his jaw line, his collarbone, anywhere she could reach, and he repeated them in turn, whispers of comfort sliding along her skin like silk, and she drew them around her while she still had the chance. Before he could even string a coherent thought together, she was straddling him, cradling his hips with her thighs, and he pulled back, eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" She gave him an irritated look, "Didn't we have this conversation already?"

That they did, and she was so _warm_, so soft, so…_perfect_, he could easily lose himself in it all, and that was something he really didn't need to do, "Dana…"

"Hush," she pressed her lips to his, surprisingly confident in her motions, "let me have this."

He didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do, he was used to her being the logical, sensible one, and this? This was the furthest thing from logical and sensible, it damn well bordered on really fucking insane. She smoothed her fingers down his neck, coming to rest on the zipper that kept his shirt closed, pulling it down, and pushing the offending item onto the bed. He was absolutely helpless to resist, he always was when it came to her, there was no reason, no rhyme to it, it just _was_. She nibbled on his ear, and his breath caught in his throat, as he tried to push past the hazy fog of desire clouding his brain to speak properly, "Dana…you have to stop."

"Why?" She questioned against his neck.

Well, shit, did she want a list? How about first and foremost, they were _siblings_? Or how about because it was _wrong_? Or maybe because last time he checked, Carter had a major crush on her? "Because you just…do." Well…that was lame.

She gave him a look, and sighed, "I can stop, but do you want me to?"

Fuck _no_ he didn't _want_ her to stop, but he _needed_ her to stop, "If you don't stop, I won't be able to stop."

"And that's a problem?"

"You think it's not?"

"It shouldn't be."

Cool, calm, so fucking logical Dana was irritating him, if only for the fact she wouldn't _listen_, "You just refuse to listen to reason for once."

She shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe I'm tired of listening to reason."

He sighed, "Now's not the time to stop listening."

She rolled her eyes, "Maybe now's the perfect time."

Before he could speak again, her mouth returned to his, back to familiar territory, as she rocked her hips against his. The sensation of it ripped a guttural groan from his throat, his hands falling to her waist, fingers digging into soft flesh as he urged her forward again. He had never felt this way before, not once, and it somehow didn't surprise him that it would be her to make him feel anything but hate and anger. She continued rocking into him, his breath stolen from pleasure, as she whispered his name into his neck, warm, sweet as honey on his tongue, and he didn't want to let her go, not ever. She whimpered her satisfaction into his mouth as she fell apart in his arms, and he was quick to follow, visions of sky blue eyes and pale blonde hair behind his eyelids. When he opens his eyes, she's staring at him with the most loving of gazes, and he can't help but kiss her again.

When she rests her head on his shoulder, he feels that stab of guilt in his abdomen like a rusty blade, and resolutely decides to ignore it, just this once, he just wants to enjoy it, enjoy _her_, because he doesn't know when he'll be back again. He smoothed a thumb over her jaw line, and she gave him a tiny smile, "There's nothing wrong with this, you know." She murmured.

He shook his head, when did she become so delusional? When did she start denying the truth? "This is ten kinds of wrong, Dana, you know it, and I know it."

"I don't think it is."

Shouldn't the roles be reversed? Shouldn't he be the one wanting, wanting, needing? And shouldn't she be the one denying, denying, pulling away? "You know, I grew up without human contact, without boys my age, or pretty girls to show off worms to in a misguided attempt at affection. I don't exactly know all the proper human etiquette, but I _do_ know this is wrong, I might have a small excuse, but what's yours?"

She flinched away at the truth of it all, like a stinging slap to her cheek, "That's not…it's not…"

He sighed at the confusion laced in her voice, at the hurt in her eyes, hurting her was never what he wanted to do, but she needed to get it, "I don't want to hurt you, short-stuff, you just have to understand."

"What's there to understand?" She frowns, pretty pink lips turning down at the edges, "I love you, and you love me, and what else is there to understand?"

Simple, easy, child-like logic, there was her, and there was him, and there was _them_ and their love, and what else was needed? Who cared what other people thought? Hah, yeah, like it would ever be that easy, nothing in his life ever was, this would be no different. He doesn't answer and she sighs, blue, blue eyes sparking electric hot into him, "Will you stay?"

He looked up sharply, "You know I can't."

"I know you can't, I just meant for tonight."

"Dana…"

"C'mon, what's stopping you? You don't have to leave this very minute, it can wait just for one night, can't it?"

Could it? Probably not, maybe so, it was imperative, but…it was Dana, and she wanted him to stay, just for a little longer, and damnit, he really _wanted_ to, so maybe he would, "Yeah, sure."

She slumped against him in relief, at least she would have this, just a few hours, and it wasn't much, but it would have to be enough, because she knew she wasn't changing his mind, so she had to make do, because what else could she do? He lowered himself downwards, resting on the pillows, and she made no move to get off of him, merely snuggled that much closer, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily under her ear. He smoothed a hand over her hair, just quietly relishing in their moments, he knew then and there that he _had_ to come back, had to come back to her, they'd figure out all this shit eventually, all that mattered was staying alive for her, because he knew she couldn't handle it if she lost him a second time, this time sticking.

Her eyes finally closed, her breathing evening out, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her close. Maybe she was right, maybe she wasn't, and maybe it just didn't matter. Because whatever the case was, what she had said had been true. He loved her and she loved him, and what else was there to understand? What else mattered? In that moment, as far as he was concerned, all that existed in the world was them, no one and nothing else mattered.

--

When Dana awoke some hours later, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and noted with a crushing blow to her heart that she was completely and utterly alone. She had never even felt him leave. She could tell he had been gone for a good few hours, his scent lingering on the sheets and pillows, flooding her senses with nothing but _Ryan_. She pushed herself up, pulling on her long-since discarded clothes, blinking in the harsh lighting as she scanned the room. She was instantly able to tell that a few of his belongings were missing. Not enough to cause suspicion, just enough to get him by. Her eyes roamed over to a shelf where he had kept the seashells she had given him that day at the beach, the day that seemed so far away now.

One was missing. The silver-ish shell was still sitting in its spot, but now lonely, missing its mate. The pink shell was gone, and she reached up and took the silver shell, holding it close to her chest. So he had taken the pink one then. Something of her color, something that reminded him of her, it caused her to smile a little. She understood now. He had something to hold onto, someone to return to, a reason to keep fighting, and more importantly, a reason to be. Everything else, all the twisted feelings, the want, the need, the too-wrong-by-everyone-else-but-them, it would all be sorted through later. For now, all she could do was hold the shell close, and pray for his safe return.

--


End file.
